


Playing

by alafaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft picked out the wrong gift; Greg shows him why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 13 of the advent challenge and prompt 'gift basket'.
> 
> Masterlist for advent fics is [here](http://alafaye.livejournal.com/437913.html).

Greg tapped his pen against the desk, frowning. Across from him, the gift basket sat seemingly innocent. It had been delivered that morning to the front desk, subjected to many tests, and then arrived in his office just before lunch. It was a nice basket--fancy chocolates, fancy wine. The basket it all sat in looked like it would stand up to good deal of abuse, the kind to hand down if he had children.

He knew who had sent it; that wasn't the problem. No, the problem was that it was impersonal. 

He finally picked up his phone and with a smirk, sent off a quick text. Take that, he thought. Tit for tat, bit childish, but Mycroft had started it.

His phone rang while he was standing in the rain, waiting for the forensics team to go over the site. Nothing had been found yet, but there were hopes. Someone had mentioned Sherlock in passing, but with him celebrating his anniversary with John, Greg wasn't going to call him in unless he had to. 

"I thought you would enjoy it," Mycroft said instead of 'hello'. 

"How do you mean?" Greg asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. One of the techs glared and he grinned, but he blew the smoke out in the opposite direction. The air was polluted already; bit of extra smoke wouldn't do the man any harm. 

"Focus," Mycroft said, tone teasing.

Greg laughed. "I'm not at your beck and call, not when I'm working."

Mycroft hummed. "I could change that. Just a few words to my assistant and you'd find yourself in a very uncomfortable chair by my desk, doing whatever I told you to."

It was an old joke between them, when Sherlock had first stumbled into Greg's life. Greg had resented that Mycroft had so easily thrown his weight around, expecting Greg to just fall in. Tough luck for the Holmes boy, Greg wouldn't just back down from a little intimidation. He tilted his head back. "I think I'd prefer it if you were the one in the hard chair while I got the chance to read the newspaper. Just think, I'd read it aloud and you'd have to sit there, not saying one word about how you made that event happen or had predicted that so and so would fumble or what you were doing about the negotiations."

Mycroft chuckled. "You have a bit of a sadist in you, Detective Inspector."

"As do you, pencil pusher," Greg argued.

Mycroft took a deep breath. "You are the romantic in this relationship. I thought chocolates and wine sent the perfect message."

One more drag and Greg's cigarette was done. He put it out using the heel of his shoe and put it into a rubbish bin nearby. "Impersonal though, innit?" 

Mycroft huffed. "If you mean to imply that I told one of the assistants here to pop over to the shops--"

"Can you tell me you didn't?" Greg tossed out. He caught site of one of the nearby cameras turning and he raised an eyebrow at it. "Using public resources illegally."

"Checking in one of the operatives in my network," Mycroft countered.

"So you did have one of your assistants get it," Greg said. "I figured."

Mycroft was silent for a long moment. A forensic tech waved for him and he held up a finger. "I've got to go. Will I see you tonight?"

"We'll see," Mycroft answered, already sounding distant. "There's a problem brewing in...well."

Greg laughed. "Right. You take care of that, I'm going to see about my John Doe."

"I'd look into the family of the owner," Mycroft suggested.

Greg hung up, shaking his head. "Bloody man. Sally, the owner, he got any family?"

~~~

A week later and Greg trudged into Mycroft's house, knowing that at least here there would be food in the fridge, already prepared and better than the greasy food he'd been eating. There would be clean towels and he knew he had a clean set of clothes. He suspected that Mycroft was going to go behind his back and send someone to do some housecleaning at Greg's flat, but that was a fight he could tackle tomorrow if he wanted.

For now, he wanted a hot shower and a good meal and clean clothes.

The second he got first by swinging by the kitchen before going upstairs. He made sure to cook it a bit longer than normal so it would still be warm when he got out of the shower. He stopped when he got to the bedroom, though, when he saw the wrapped present on the bed. He put his dinner aside and picked up the present.

His phone rang. "You know, it's still creepy when you do that," he told Mycroft.

Mycroft chuckled, a quiet noise. "I would apologise, but I can't stop. I like knowing I can find you anywhere."

Greg huffed. "One day I'll drop off the grid and leave you clues. You'll have to come for me yourself, though. No teams or anything. Just you, in your three pieces suit. How do you feel about a holiday in India?" Mycroft sighed and Greg laughed. "Too warm for your English blood, huh? Well, maybe Canada then. I've heard it's pretty there in the autumn."

"You don't have to wait for me to be there," Mycroft said instead.

Greg fingered the ribbon wrapped around the present. It didn't look nearly perfect so he suspected that Mycroft had done it himself. He smiled. "Tomorrow is Christmas. Will you be home?"

The sound of clacking keys came down the line. "I will be."

Greg smiled. "Then I'll open it tomorrow. I'll swing by my flat to get your present and we'll open them together."

"I could--"

Greg sighed. "I can't stop you. You'll have a cleaner over there anyway, won't you?" Guilty silence, Greg learned, came through loud and clear over the phone. He put the present on a chair. "Have them grab it then and put it under the tree here."

"I do appreciate that you let me have these little things," Mycroft said. "I like that I can give you things that make your life a little easier, that I can take care of you this way."

Greg took a deep breath. It was nice to know that when he was just too tired to be bothered, Mycroft in his own way would be there to help. He sat on the bed. "Come home soon. I miss you."

"I'll be sure to slip between the sheets naked then," Mycroft teased.

Greg laughed. "Does that mean you expect me to not put on pajamas?"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "A nice morning lie in would be appreciated. No, Greg, please don't dress after your shower."

Greg gasped, pretending to be shocked. "Are you going to spy on me? When I'm wet and naked?"

"You do know how to make my night better," Mycroft sighed.

"Go on with you. Love you."

"Love you. Until tomorrow."

Greg smiled and hung up. He looked at the present on the chair and took a deep breath. Mycroft might drive him crazy, but he was very good at being amazing. He looked around the room, trying to figure out where the camera might be hidden. With technology these days, he was sure it didn't matter; Mycroft would likely see as much of him as he wished. Time for that shower then. He grinned and wondered if how much teasing he could get in.

Happy Christmas indeed.


End file.
